Between yesterday and tomorrow
by PolarisWhatever
Summary: There will be a tomorrow, and until then, she can only wait in between. Soon, whispers a little voice somewhere in the shadows of her world, soon everything will change and your time will come.


Between yesterday and tomorrow

candleinthebox

Genre: Erm... weird, short and random?

Disclaimer: Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro is not mine, and the characters aren't either (too bad, I sure could use Higuchi to fix my computer).

Thanks to: Swanlake3112, who is very busy and still took some time to correct my mistakes. Hun, you rock.

A/N: Because she's the biggest enigma of the whole series, and she deserves more lovin'. I can't bribe you, I'm broke, but review and I will love you.

* * *

The sun is high in the blue, blue sky, the birds are chirping, and it is so hot that even with every window is open, the temperature in the room is almost unbearable.

Or maybe not. Maybe it is winter, the windows are actually tightly shut (there must be windows somewhere, right? A windowless room is so depressing), and whoever is living here now is huddled near the heater, slowly sipping burning hot cocoa, waiting for the snow to stop falling. If the heater is still in the same spot, or still there at all, because she assumes that a lot of furniture has been moved and removed since she last checked. It is the way time works – people move, things change, the older disappear to be replaced by the new. It is neither good nor bad, just real. Well, except for her.

She hopes that the white couch is still here, though. She used to love that couch. She used to sit on it, legs crossed, a book in her lap and a cup of tea within reach, or to simply lie there eyes closed, never really sleeping but just relaxing in the calm and quietness. It is good that she actually likes the quiet, or her situation would have been a lot more troublesome than it is. Even if she does not like silence that much anymore.

She has light recollections like this one, and like how she liked to play pranks on her friends (whoever they were) as a child, or how she loved to brush her hair for hours before braiding it tightly – her hair was what she liked most in her physical appearance, but she cannot tell why since she does not remember how she used to look like. Short, colourful flashes that feel like they happened to somebody else, and she was just a nameless, faceless spectator somewhere in the background. Maybe it is the case. Or maybe they are all false from the beginning to the end, created by her mind to ease the boredom and loneliness. She does not really care.

She does not really care either to remember how she ended here (and where is here, or rather, is there any "here" at all?). It must have been complicated and painful, and some things must remain forgotten for the better. There are not many things that do matter for somebody, something, or whatever she really is (because she realize that there is something about her that is not really normal, but then again, the concept of normality is one of the many things that she cannot grasp anymore) who has been waiting for such a long time in a world of stillness and silence.

_Soon_, whispers a little voice somewhere in the shadows of her world, eager and hopeful if hope can be real in such a situation (she does not dare to hope, and does not care to despair either, it is so easy to let herself sink in the overwhelming shadows), _soon everything will change and your time will come_.

Somewhere, something is happening, something huge and there are flashes of fanged smiles and young tears for the loss of loved ones and bright blue and sweet pink and promises of things to come. Something is dying and something new has been born and _soon_, repeats the voice excitedly, because she has not felt anything for such a long time (days, months, years, counting would have been pointless), and now she feels that it is coming so it must be true. Whatever it is.

She will know time that passes and people that move and things that change and how the old dies to be replaced by the new. Maybe she will never be mended or human again, but there will finally be someone to call her by her name, and she suddenly feels so wonderful at that thought that the limp braid almost twitches in happiness – but not yet, she has to wait patiently just a little more.

_Soon…_

_Akane._


End file.
